The Bird Of Hermes Parts 1 and 2
by AgnosticAngel
Summary: The TARDIS has landed in a cursed town, controlled by the mighty Count Dracula. With The Doctor killed, Amy must join with the vicious Abigail Hellsing, the necrophiliac Lady Caroline, and James to crush the looming oppression of Castle Golgotha.
1. Chapter 1

**T****he ****B****ird of ****H****ermes (Part ****i****):**

The TARDIS thrummed into existence in a dark room, a slight hint of smoke from recently extinguished candles lingering in the air. The brakes moaned in protest as it finally ground to a halt, cementing itself outside the vortex at last. The Doctor's long dark hair partially obscured his face and eyes after a long time away from a decent barber. He smirked at the irony, having all the time in the world. Stepping out, he instantly started assessing where they were; and more importantly: When.

"Judging by the architecture, seems like late... Amy?"  
"How can I know, I'm not even out yet!" An attractive red-haired girl replied from inside the cavernous time machine. Amy Pond strode out, wearing her usual bright red jumper. "Oh, this one's just easy, Doctor. Late Victorian period. From the design of the furniture I'd say somewhere between 1892 and 1894.

"You're learning," The Time Lord smiled, impressed, "What gave it aw-" His voice stopped abruptly on seeing where Amy looked. A simple printed calendar hung from the lavishly yellow-painted wall: November 1893. All the days, save for a few at the end were crossed out. The 28th day was encircled, marking a long-awaited event. The crosses stopped at the 27th day. In the darkness that could only mean one thing: They had arrived at the exact right day, for whatever lay in store. "Looking at the size of this room this house seems fairly large. Wealthy family. Or group. Or order! There seems to be a suspicious amount of wooden spikes lying around for it to be an ordinary house... Or... Stakes?" Picking one up and holding his sonic screwdriver to it, it silently let out a familiar green glow in its torch setting. Carved into the wood, too small to see from a distance, were an intricate series of patterns, and words. "I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death." The Doctor read the words aloud. "There are dozens of these. They're blessed. Look at the crucifix in the middle! It's made out of even smaller words. Someone really wants some demons dead!" Before he began lecturing her about ancient symbols, Amy cried out, alarmed.

"Doctor, look out!" A petite, dark-haired woman had appeared behind The Doctor, brandishing a stake similar to that which The Doctor was examining intently. She cried an indistinct Latin verse, aiming a strike at The Doctor's upper left chest. Before he could react, the spire hit home, The Doctor collapsing, his still-glowing screwdriver falling to the ground. Drawing a detached bayonet, carved like the stakes in verse and symbolism, she prepared to slice his head off. "No!" Amy shrieked, her instincts taking over, screaming at her to save her beloved companion. The small, pale woman screamed, dropping the knife and The Doctor's limp body as Amy landed on top of her. They wrestled on the floor for a few seconds, their arms a blur of scratching and frenzied punching. Amy couldn't win. She now saw the face of the dark-haired woman, no older than a teenage girl. The girl retrieved the glinting bayonet, the knife seeming to leer at Amy as she preparing to deliver a killing strike to her neck. She suddenly gasped, briskly replacing the sharp killing implement.

"Warm blood... Must be a human..." She reaches to The Doctor's body. Feeling his wrist, she noticed his dwindling body heat around a growing pool of blood. "Oh god... I couldn't have... But the light... It could only be one of his spells..." She broke down sobbing, releasing Amy and screaming hysterical apologies to her. "I didn't mean to! He... He made green light from his stick! He appeared without coming in! He... He... I didn't mean to kill him!" While she bawled her heart out Amy held strong, wanting to avenge her companion's death but still wanting to comfort the crying child. Disillusioned, distraught, and in desperate need of comfort, she pulled the girl into a hug.

After several minutes of silence, they broke the embrace. Amy seemed to be coming to terms with what she just witnessed. "What... Why did you... Kill him?" The girl stood up carefully. Looking around their surroundings for the first time, Amy noticed that this was a bedroom. The ornate four-poster bed was covered by drapes, which the girl parted, sitting on the bed and beckoning Amy to join her. Lighting a candle, the room filled with a dull light, and the drapes around the bed lit up, reflecting the light with what could only be silver. The dark-haired girl opened her mouth.

"My name is Abigail van Hellsing. I am the 17 year old first daughter of Lady Caroline van Hellsing. For as long as I have been alive, our town has been plagued by a demon more powerful than you can imagine. He forbade the citizens from leaving our town. He kills all those who stand against him. And every year... We must offer him a pure maiden... A virgin, of dignified lineage. His powers include being able to appear somewhere at will, and conjure light and perform magic. Your friend... I mistook him for the vampire. He can change form, and it was dark! I thought I could free us once and for all from this curse. But... But instead I killed some... one..." At this she began again to sob, but held back her tears, her wet eyes glistening in the candle light. "My family. We formed and lead an order, known as the Hellsing organisation. We work to free the town from the treachery of the dark god, and usurp him from his throne atop Castle Golgotha."

"Why is he- what do you mean a vampire?" Amy interjected.

"Count Dracula. He is an immortal, he has lived in the castle longer than anyone can remember, possibly since medieval times. Our small town had a high disappearance rate yet nobody noticed as those taken were mere peasants. The Count never bothered people, always hiding in his shadowy stone dwelling. This was until one day, when Charles van Hellsing heard a woman scream, and rushed to her rescue. By the time he got there, the screams were already faded. He could see two shapes far in the distance, going up the hill faster than any mortal could- into the Castle. He told the townsfolk, and a group got together to find the lost woman, and kill the Count if necessary. They appeared at the gates of the castle, but there appeared to be no one in- that is, until a drained, dismembered carcass fell from the battlements. Then the count appeared. It was a massacre. Dozens of townsfolk lay dead, my father Charles the last to die, fighting until his last breath. One person was spared. Told his demands and left to flee. This person was Lady Caroline van Hellsing, my pregnant mother. She vowed to avenge all who died; by slaying Dracula. Her wealth was poured into forming our organisation. We planned to strike... Tonight."

Amy, after travelling with The Doctor for a while, was beyond becoming dumbfounded at these sorts of things, but wanted to help however she could. Abigail ordered her; "Go downstairs. Knock for James- sixth door on the left corridor. I need to get back to the armoury to prepare." Amy noticed the fear and impending despair etched in Abigail's eyes.

"You're just a girl! You shouldn't be fighting supernatural creatures. You should be enjoying life. You live in a mansion for God's sake! Live your-

"I have no life." Abigail interrupted. "I'm next. Tomorrow is the day of offering and... I'm the one he requested. If we don't strike now I'll be a bloodless carcass tomorrow. I want to die trying to save my town from the demon. I have to go. Sixth door on the left." At this she sped off through the large oak door which lay ajar, brandishing and twirling the stake as she went. Failing in an attempt to catch up, Amy took a final glance at The Doctor's pale face, in a final moment of reverence; before strolling solemnly down the gilded staircase to find a corridor stretching out for what looked like miles in the darkly lit mansion. Counting to the sixth door on the left side, she took a deep breath and knocked. She the man who answered the door looked nothing like she expected- a rugged, war-hardened old man.

The man answering the door looked no older than Amy herself, his blonde hair shining in contrast to the red tinge she had. He wore a suave white suit, a small red and black shield on the shoulder. His arms were much thinner than she expected, yet the long, thick sword he wielded in his hand suggested strength, and his lean, muscular physique stamina. He noticed Amy's defencelessness, apologising for his lack of courtesy and inserting his sword into a smooth wooden shaft resting on his back. Amy snapped out of her mesmerised state of sustained innuendo at his attractiveness and realized she hadn't spoken for almost a minute.

"Um... James?" She enquired shyly. The man nodded. "Abigail sent me."

"Ah, you must be a recruit. It's quite late, but I'll try to get you in on some basic slaying techniques before dawn. Come on in." Amy strolled into the room sheepishly, and nervously shivered as she touched the cold steel of the sword handle held out to her. Grasping it, James began to explain some simple swordplay. She found herself looking at his lips most of the time, only occasionally snapping back to existence to pretend she was listening.

"So is Abigail your sister, or...?" She asked shyly, suppressing a giggle.

"Heh, no. We were just good friends growing up. She's an only child. The Hellsing family name will die with her. She was the one who got me into leading our forces. We only have a few dozen soldiers, but we know Dracula will be at his weakest a year since consuming more blood. We're more prepared than the rabble killed at the start of his reign. We lay siege to Golgotha tonight, in a few hours. Then the only one left will be either him or our town."

_An intricate four dimensional pattern danced, twirling and morphing. The colours incomprehensible to the human mind flitted through multiple planes of existence through the innumerable number of neurones in The Doctor's head. The abstract pattern was accompanied by a symphony of tones. Their wavelength gradually got more rhythmic, eventually coming to a loop of a few simple noises, strangely familiar to a human moan. The shapes and colour eventually blended in, with time, to become a simple arrangement of curves, lines, and drab colours. A moving pinkish hue overlaid on a brown, wooded background. It was this time The Doctor realized that his eyes were half open, snapping to consciousness with a jolt, which resonated several times throughout spasms in his lower body. _

"Who are you? Why are you on-" The Doctor swiftly leaned up to feel a burning pain that set his upper chest exploding with fiery pain. He did not know what surprised him more- The nude form of a middle-aged, raven-haired woman straddling him or the pointed length of bloodstained wood jutting out of one of his hearts. The woman opened her eyes, noticing his upright body, and fell of him in shock.

"You-you're alive?" She gaped. Ever the gentleman, The Doctor averted his gaze, pointing at a pile of clothes on the carpeted floor.

"Put some clothes on, and we'll talk," he grunted, wincing from the pain of his impaled heart. He stood up, and shook grasped the hilt of the stake behind his back. A useful survival perk in Time Lord Physiology was being able to stop one heart if it was damaged, minimising major blood loss. The hole was a couple of inches in the entry side with the hilt, and about one in the place it had jutted out. It should heal within a few days with sufficient energy, and the heart would work again within a week. Until then he would have to be stuck with a painfully lacking supply of oxygen. How human. He smirked until he saw the horrified expression on Caroline Hellsing's face; as she came to terms with what she just saw.

"You were stabbed in the heart. Nobody could survive that. You... Are you the prince of darkness himself?"

"No. They call me The Doctor. I'm a traveller. I recently came here."

"You came to the wrong place. Nobody's left here for 17 years."

"A minute ago... did you think I was DEAD? And yet... You were on top-"

"Don't. Tell. Anyone. About that." She hissed maliciously. "Its... I haven't been satisfied by a living man since my husband died. I have to keep to my social class as a widower, no matter what malevolent creature besieges us."  
"Tell me more, why can nobody leave?" The next few minutes were spent with Lady Hellsing explaining the plight of their organisation, about Dracula, and how they were about to strike.

The large metal bell towered above the Hellsing mansion 80 yards up. At the bottom of a perilously thin spiral staircase of stone; a raggedly-dressed peasant boy grasped the rope, staring intently at the grandfather clock. The gothic styled hands fell closer together minute by minute, the pendulum swinging away the seconds as they gradually blurred together. The boy admired the brushwork that decorated the wooden frame. It displayed a tapestry of great battle, with gods looking down upon them. A single link unified them, a bond between Earth and Heaven. This link was a black dove, flying above a single couplet. After working as the servant and bell ringer for several months now, the boy could vaguely remember what the inscription on the clock face said:

_The bird of Hermes is my name  
Eating my wings to make me tame_

The long and short hands finally met at the 12. It was midnight on the 28th November. It was the time to strike. Grasping the frayed, weathered rope connected to the bell, he pulled with all his strength.


	2. Chapter 2

**T****he ****B****ird of ****H****ermes (Part ****ii****):**

The assembly in the courtyard was beyond a stereotypical mob of pitchfork-wielding townsfolk. These people were well-armed, trained, and motivated; united by their common goal of killing their oppressor. They were from all walks of life, from wiry peasant teenagers to the wealthy Lady Hellsing herself. She yelled the order to open the gate, and the platoon of citizens began the march towards the looming Castle Golgotha, the dark walls silhouetted against the dark blue sky.

A night-black figure collapsed breathlessly at the walls of the castle. Panting, he cursed the lack of oxygen to his burning muscles. The Doctor sorely missed having his binary vascular system functioning. Using his sonic screwdriver as a torch, he lit the stone wall. Seeing no handholds to climb up, he changed the setting to 2414-a-ii. This was at the right frequency to disintegrate mortar. As he twisted the aperture for a wide affect area, he pressed the button, releasing an inaudible, pulsating green light. There was a series of pops, followed by a loud crack accompanied by a sprinkle of glinting dust between the stone bricks. Releasing the button, The Doctor lashed out a vicious side-kick to the wall, before swiftly backing away as the thick slabs collapsed and parted, leaving a Doctor-sized hole in the brickwork. Smiling at his handiwork, The Doctor squeezed in with ease, hoping the crowd won't reach the castle for a while. He came into a dry, cold room with a narrow spiral staircase coming out of one door. Going inside, The Doctor looked upwards in the middle, and groaned- He was in for a long climb.

The organised mob got to the ancient Castle Golgotha after 20 minutes, following a lengthy run across town. Several civilians had heard about the strike tonight, and the forces tripled during the rush, yet now it looked a lot more like a torch-and-pitchfork bearing angry mob. Arriving at the hill, the less well equipped, untrained ones led the charge, attempting to avenge loved ones or honour. They got no further than the gates- Until the Hellsing organisation's trained warriors managed to haul their ram up to the door.

The castle was probably built faster than the time it took for The Doctor to navigate the maze-like castle; with the constant dead-ends and of course his crippling lack of energy. He at last found the pinnacle of the castle, its zenith, the hub of the townsfolk's oppression: Dracula's throne room. A dark figure sat on an ornate chair, majestically decorated with stolen jewels and gold.

"The honourable Count Dracula I presume?"

"Who else," an articulate, soft voice replied.

"You take civilians. You drain them of blood. You request a virginal maiden annually. I know what you are."

"Please do tell, Doctor."

"Your low level psychic abilities don't scare me; Great Vampire."

"I was voivode of Wallachia, hundreds of years ago. I will never know the true date; the ages blur together. I was Vlad The Impaler, commander of my army. The Turks fell before me." Dracula spat the words bitterly. "I was attacked, by a dark creature. I found a new lust. Resisting at first, I gradually succumbed to consuming blood, from my slain allies on the battlefield. My transformation to Count Dracula became complete. This is all I know. Please Doctor," He sincerely pleaded, "if you are so wise, as your thoughts proclaim, what am I?"

"You are a Great Vampire; an ancient, no, _impossibly_ old race from the Dark Times. My species' abhoral of violence stems from our war with your race. Fearing extinction, their advanced bio-technology integrated traits into their genes. Every time somebody was bitten, a piece of your DNA latched onto their cells. Like cancer, it multiplies, and eventually changes every cell in the victim's body- An ingenious genetic chameleon arch. The remaining vampiric creatures need blood to survive, since they are made of dead flesh. The white blood cells kill infections and bacteria, so stop you rotting. Platelets repair all damage rapidly, making your skin more and more impervious with each attack. Plasma carries all the sugar and energy you need to move, your evolved muscular systems still needing this little sustenance for rapid movements. The vampires' structures were fluid, able to change their shape and even fly- older vampires will know how to flex these hidden muscles. I know this is how you blocked off your town; just a little piece of yourself stretched around the perimeter; entrapping all who come and go."

"Your long words do nothing to give me understanding," Dracula stated, "Why must they be of the purest for them to become another creature of the night?"

"Great Vampire tradition. They saw virgins as the pure, and worthy of inheriting vampirism. Others, they saw as unworthy and injected a different gene; one to destroy their mind and create obedient husks- What you call ghouls. This was long before they became desperate in our long and bloody war to add to their ranks. It eventually became more than tradition- it became instinct; giving you no choice of who becomes like you and who will be a ghoul. The low-level psychic power in you subconsciously picks up on it."

"That's all I have to know. My brides are like myself. The pitiful townsfolk lay them down for me to take as I requested. You see, it does get fairly tedious in this castle all alone. I have no need of you now. No reason to... keep you breathing..." This was the last thing The Doctor heard before the calm silhouette flew at him from every direction.

"Going down!" He swiftly called, pressing the button on his screwdriver, the floor giving way beneath him; stones parting as he fell. He felt slightly disappointed that the fall was too short to warrant a "Geronimo!" Even if he did, nobody was there to hear it; not worth the oxygen. Coughing in darkness and dust, The Doctor ran for his life, hearing a second, louder crack resonating and ringing throughout the castle on his way.

The thick wooded door blew open after a single anticlimactic ram, the townsfolk putting all their effort into opening Golgotha wide. Within lay not what they expected: A smell of rotted flesh and several glints from black, wide, abyssal eyes. The brides of Dracula screeched and charged.

Over the 17 years of Dracula's dominion over the town, one virginal maiden was offered to the count each year. One had lied about her virtue, becoming a ghoul and swiftly being slain. Nine became vampires, but resisted the crushing guilt of drinking blood from a sentient creature. They stagnated, being chained up and displayed as failed examples of vampires as they rotted in eternally conscious life. The remaining seven succumbed to bloodlust, becoming true children of the night. They faced the townsfolk now- Their deadly instincts and power against the weapons and combat experience of the mob. The banshee howl from the leader spurred them on as they prepared to feast on the blood of the citizens.

Many warriors at the front were over-eager townsfolk caught up in the march; their lack of experience and desire to make a difference making a mental tug-of-war within each of them, between honour and life. Many fled, but turned too slowly to avoid their doom, cut down by the brides. Others attempted attacks, but in the dark and cold, the Brides' predatorial senses had the upper hand. Cutting down these peasants, they faced the others, their ranks still intact. Their faces catching the light of the moon, the onward-marching fighters stopped dead in recognition: Many were driven to join the Hellsing organisation by their stolen daughters or sisters, in an effort to get them back. Their morale was dashed on the sharp claws and pale flesh of the creatures they became.

As the brides charged on with malice on their side, one held fast. Seeing the fearful face of James leading the opposing charge, she suppressed a sob. Her brother was there for her. There to save her. Blood meant nothing compared to family. She would rather starve and rot than let herself become a monster. She had to do what was right. She had to defeat Dracula. Running back into the doors of Castle Golgotha, unseen by her bloodthirsty associates, she saw the first chains in her night vision. A woman hung, spread-eagled to the wall. Or at least, it used to be a woman. The remaining horror was barely alive. A skeletal shell covered by patchy skin, and muscles destroyed by years of neglect and maggots. Seeing them as her only hope, she sliced through the chains with her superhuman strength, and the first bride was free. Setting on the other horrors, they were soon all freed, but the result was much less than she expected. They were nothing but steadily convulsing masses, like puppets cut down from their strings.

The Doctor was stuck in an endlessly looping maze; running, ducking, swerving, sonicing, falling, and then some more running. All the while, the malevolent form of Dracula was shadowing him as he fled. He could not take the lack of energy any longer, about to resign to his fate, as he smelt a biological, thriving smell and heard close noises of struggle. Taking on a newfound boost of speed, he went on this last resort to escape. He stopped outside the gateway, noticing the battle and the runaway bride opposite. Noticing immediately what she was doing, he screamed who he was in his mind, knowing she would hear and understand. He shone his sonic screwdriver onto them and they immediately started moving; the parasites in them killed instantly. This burst of power reduced the screwdriver to a faint blinking diode, signalling low power. It vibrated slightly as well to emphasise it. Slightly frustrated at this, he pocketed it.

"You need blood to live. I have enough for you all. At least, enough to keep you stable for a single battle, to even the playing field out there." The Doctor held his wrist out. One rotted vampire flung herself to him, latching onto his arm. He winced as she started nursing on his blood. A couple more came over, and attached themselves to him. Other failed brides were not as lucky. They could not move as they had no muscle left, literally a bag of bones in shrivelled skin. The Doctor winced form the stinging, and the empathetic women took notice, and stopped. One kept latching on, making him go pale, but she was wrenched off and brought back to her senses by the others. The three women were already changing, muscled filling out, skin re-tightening. "Go. Now! Stop Dracula's brides. Destroy the heart, it will kill them. I can't give any more blood now; I will die. Sorry. There will be much blood spilled on the battlefield. Feast, but resist the wave of vampirism before it crashes down on your head. Do not drown in blood." At this they nodded and left, the few other, starved vampires hobbled after in search of blood, walking like characters in a sick puppet show.

The battlefield had spread into three sections: The fleeing, those locked in fighting, and the dead. At the time it was fairly even between the groups, but the first and last groups were growing at a steady pace. Two brides lay dead, their hearts impaled by blessed stakes or cut out by swords, and dozens of townsfolk rested with them in a bloody heap that stained the grassy hill with black liquid in the darkness. Amy stood at the back of the brawl, not wanting to die but wanting to honour the Doctor's name and fight. Among the fleeing party were those whose family had become brides. They could not face killing their sister or daughter. A few of these people were spurred on by this, wanting to lay them to rest with honour.

At this point in the battle, four more brides sped onto the scene from within the pitch-black castle entrance. This crushed morale in the fighters, some even letting themselves die, until three of Dracula's brides were swiftly killed in a single swoop. Two brides left, the failed brides joined the townsfolk, the tables turned. A few other creatures came from the entrance, lapping up the blood from the fallen like puppies, seemingly growing and healing. Soon only one bride remained. She flew up, with impossible agility, to the battlements, where Count Dracula sadistically watched, a permanent grin on his inhuman face.

"How entertaining," He smirked, his voice echoing around the hill, "Sad though it may be, you will all die now, unless you hand over a certain Abigail van Hellsing. We agreed. Then I shall go about my business, leaving you alone as normal." At this he glided down to the front of the warriors. Some who previously fled came back up to see what the commotion was about. "Abigail! Show yourself! Before I kill-" Dracula was interrupted by a blinding green light. The Doctor had suddenly and majestically appeared from the castle brandishing his screwdriver.

"555 Nanometres right there!" He laughed, "Brightest of the lot!" He ran towards the vampire, no longer a prince of darkness, and launched a devastating spinning kick. He was down. Grabbing a stake from a fallen fighter, The Doctor punched it into Dracula's heart, and with a spurt of blood, he fell to the floor. Amy gasped, rushing towards The Doctor and locking him in an embrace.  
"You died! How are you here?" She sobbed hysterically in a mixture of relief, despair, and happiness."  
"Two hearts, remember?" He smiled and hugged back, relishing her warmth. He suddenly remembered Dracula, and bent to the floor. Delicately holding the vampire's head, he held their bloodstained foreheads together, whispering silent messages. Dracula seemed to nod with the last of his strength, and then slowly dissolved into a puddle of blood, mingling with the fallen mortals. After the town's initial delight, they noticed the quivering bodies of the remaining brides. "Unconscious from the exposure to light;" The Doctor explained. "Long-term fear of it made it an allergy. They have to die. We can't allow them to spread." At this, he grimaced, and seemingly forced a spurt of blood out of his wrist, containing a few grains of vampire cells. While straining this out, the townsfolk had set about solemnly killing the remaining vampire brides, understanding and with little protest. The vampires were the only species; save for the Daleks, that The Doctor could reserve no mercy for.

"Who are you?" James asked, coming up to him. The Doctor quickly retrieved his psychic paper, and on looking at it, a puzzled expression came across James' face. "Abraham van Hellsing?" He gasped.

"Yes... Um... Distant cousin of Lady Caroline. Tell them the Hellsing organisation defeated Dracula, and that the name belongs to us now." Baffled at this, the combat-weary man simply nodded and moved on. He met with Amy and held her for warmth.

"You have a hold in your chest," She said, puzzled.

"Yes. It'll be gone in a week or so," The Doctor smiled. "We should get back to the TARDIS." Taking her hand, they strolled through the town, past the crowds and of celebrating and mourning. Back in the mansion, in the yellow-walled room, they stepped in, wondering where they would be off to next.

Lady Caroline van Hellsing screamed as the midwife held the wet cloth to her head.

"Push! It's coming!"  
"I am pushing!" She snapped, a mix of hormones and basic anaesthetics controlling her emotions.

"I see the head!" The midwife calmly said. "Almost there!" From the expression on her face Caroline could tell the child was not almost there, and after 6 further agonizing minutes the child was finally born. Cradling him in her arms, she smiled.

"Arthur Hellsing. That's your name." The child gurgled as if in recognition. A few minutes later, Lady Caroline passed out, the after-image of the smile ghosting on her lips.

"We meet again; Lady Caroline van Hellsing." A familiarly soft, dangerously icy voice whispered. She let out a soundless scream from the shock; falling out of her bed.

"Dracula. You... You're dead..."

"It's been a long nine months," the figure spoke.

"We have hunted your kind. We will wipe your filth from the face of the Earth. We will not give up and despair, we are on a mission from God!" Upon hearing this, the shadow bowed down.

"And I intend to help you every step of the way. Alucard; at your service, my lady. "After defeat by your bloodline, I am now in service of your family. And I must say... I like your clock."


End file.
